Don't You (Forget About Me)
by Pilgrimage
Summary: A Jock, a Princess, a Basketcase, a Brain, and a Criminal have to figure out how to survive each other's company for one full-day, Saturday detention. [Camaya] [Zoemund]
1. Cam

**A/N: If you haven't seen the Breakfast Club yet. Hurry, get to it.**

* * *

**Cam **

I realize that my last year of high school is all about endurance.

And if I don't know about endurance by now, then my dad's long shot dreams for me to be drafted before I hit the big 2-0 will be for shit. According to him, I have exactly three years left.

I'm a ticking clock, losing time (not control, as my therapist reminds me). The thing is, Dr. Kaparowitz doesn't get that I _am _in control. _I _chose to go back Toronto, back to the Ice Hounds, back to everything that almost brought me to the lowest low I've ever brought myself to. And she always ends up pitching me a curveball: 'Do you like hockey?' She's been asking this one since day one, almost a year ago today. My answer is always the same.

'Yes,' I pretty much lie. The only lie I tell her, really.

Sure, I'd like it better if I didn't have a deadline and all this pressure attached to it. It'd be so much better if it was a just-for-shits game with older brothers, Justin and Mick.

_Whatever_. The point is, I don't cut anymore. I don't get into scraps with niners at all. I don't hole myself up in greenhouses…

And when I lie to everyone else, I don't get the bullshit. I know exactly how it'd go down for me if I did let people in. I'd be that one kid in class everyone knows about, the lost cause. They always want to give lost causes something, like giving you their tears or lectures about how much you're worth will make everything better.

Though the pills the doctor gave me help, and I'm comfortable with the routine. My mom's an angel for trying her hardest not to smother me or treat me like I'm made of glass. Everything that's prescribed helps some. But, they never warn you about what it would mean for everyone to know, that after all is said and done, no one wants to be friends with the kid who might actually lose it on them.

So, I live in my head mostly. No one would want in there. Sometimes, I think up miserable, fucked up things that I want so badly to say out loud. I don't, of course, not at school. That's what my therapist is for. This way, no one gets hurt, and no one has a reason to leave.

Maybe I'll find a way out of hockey, if and when I get drafted. Maybe my dad will understand…

'You okay, Saunders?' Zig appears out of nowhere.

'_Jesus_, man,' I snap at him, trying to stand without looking too spooked, holding on to the metal bar above me. I wonder if he's been hiding behind the bleachers all along, staking out. 'I've been waiting in the dirt forever.'

'Uh,' he replies lamely, and I wonder why he has to take this long to respond. He only shrugs, and mumbles, 'Lost track of time.'

This is our routine: at the top of the hour for my spare, he comes to find me behind the furthest bleachers of the football field. He doesn't tell anyone, and I would never _let_ him tell anyone.

Do I trust him? Not entirely. He's definitely not the same band geek that I traded a few messy punches with last year, though I'm definitely not buying the Outsiders getup that he's obviously copping. I mean, the guy is obviously taking that grade nine book report way too seriously.

They say he got kicked out of his own house, that he's dealing to make it out on his own now. I mean, I should feel bad, and I might feel bad for him, but I'm not sure if I believe the rumours. Anyways, I can't help it if I almost always smother an urge to laugh out loud when I see him trying to strut, that's right, _strut_ his way towards our meeting spot.

And when he's this close, I feel like my skin is always itching with something contagious. But, it's especially acting up now, when he's actually talking to me, wondering if I'm 'okay'.

Then there's the single most important detail I can't forget. No matter how many times I bring up the memory of him calling me a 'psycho', triggering me to literally end it all, I can't deny the stronger memory of his real panic. He was wearing the same shirt that he is wearing today. I remember this because I see a stubborn, fading stain from my own blood that I smeared on its front. And his face, white and screaming into his phone for help the whole night, the night he pulled me out of the greenhouse.

He hasn't told anyone. Not even _her_. Even now, I'm sure he's still trying to make amends.

'Did you brin' the vligh'?' He asks me, a single blunt flopping with every syllable in his mouth. He pats himself for assurance.

With an impatient flourish, I light my lighter by his mouth, singeing the tip of the paper before he looks as though he's about to ask again.

There's this routine too. The drug deal with his friendly discount of my asking for it, and him paying, always saying I can just get him later. I never do.

He passes me the blunt reluctantly, puffing out a plume of smoke before curiosity breaks through again.

'Are you okay?' He persists. 'Because you look-'

'Like I've been waiting for a half hour for your dumb ass? Where were you, anyway?' I redirect, forcefully blowing out from my lungs. I can't even enjoy this right now.

This is not part of our deal. I wonder if I have to start paying him just to keep his mouth shut.

He's suddenly got this huge, goofy grin, spreading all the way across his face. Once it's there, I feel like he's having a hard time getting rid of it. I really don't want to know.

'Nevermind.'

He pinches the blunt back out of my mouth, and he's still smiling, like he's got a secret he really, really wants to share.

'_Nevermind_,' I repeat for good measure.

That grin is making him look like a walking, talking contradiction in his rip-sleeved, all-black look today. I want to laugh at him now, like I've been waiting to today, because all I see is the dork that I know he is dying to burst at his seams. But, I just manage a heavy eye roll, because I'm aware of my own uniform, and it's just as pathetically cliche-an Ice Hound letterman jacket. So, when he doesn't pass up the chance to make fun of my newest shade of plaid today or the way my longer hair is not at all different from the other guys on my team, I do give him a real laugh.

'See you next week, Novak.' I blow out a final puff, and thankfully I leave it there when I see the concern flooding back in his eyes.

I don't know what's worse, a pseudo friendship with him, threatening to become a real one, or his pity.

* * *

'Birdman!' Dallas wrangles me into the cafeteria. He still has no clue what that nickname means to me. He only thinks we've picked off from last hockey season, when I left for a 'family emergency', which isn't so much of a lie when you think about it. But, this time around I grin back at him, like I own that shit, that I really wanted to scale that catwalk as a joke. The guys kept saying it'd be _sick_ if we got Simpson's attention, and, with his natural knack for fumbling these sort of things, he'd cause mass hysteria. Apparently, the idea of someone having a public meltdown is hilarious.

And this is another routine. This is one that I've gotten much better at the second time around.

We walk past the tables, now and again stopping to make the rounds for the power squad and the puck bunnies, and anyone else that just wants in on the parents-out-of-town-kind-of-parties on the weekends.

I think I've gotten my smile down, since no one seems to notice my straining sometimes, and I've trained myself to ask the usuals, 'Did you see how much so-and-so drank on Saturday?' or 'Are you going to so-and-so's thing after our game?'

We almost make it to our table when I hear _her _name, and then there's a vice grip on my insides. I take a sharp inhale that I'm trying to hide. And I'm reminded of the first time I saw Maya, heard her since, well, since we broke up over a year ago.

That was on my way to the Principal Simpson's office on my first day back. She didn't stay longer than the noise she made that sounded like she was having trouble breathing or maybe it was a disgusted, dry heaving fit. All I know is that I somehow decided to shut down in front of her, and I couldn't hear anything louder than the hammering of my own heart in my ears. She left me then, trapped by my own feet that weighed about a ton of bricks, wondering what she really thought of me now.

I realized then that I had to give up on this idea that I'd be prepared for her when I came back. And, really, I never stood a chance before. It's clear that my luck's never going to change.

Degrassi is a big school. You could literally not know a third of your grade simply because there isn't enough time in the day to pass the same people in the hallways, let alone know all of them. So, it's a wonder that I can count the number of instances I've seen and heard her on both my hands. Neither of us mean it, I'm sure. In fact, I'm positive that we're both downright religious about avoiding each other, finding barriers with crowds and our friends, finding interesting spots on the wall to fix our sights on as we find ourselves passing each other, alone in the halls.

Then it happens again, and no matter how many times I've tried to pull the plug of my looping film reel, I let it stay for as long as it does. I blink and I see her from before, her small hand on the back of my neck, the pretty bow her mouth makes before she licks her lips, and I hear her softer singing voice when she thinks no one is listening. Another strike against my chest, and it feels impossibly tight. I ball fists at my sides.

_Fuck_.

I blink and I exhale, relieved because she's far enough and concentrating on someone else.

'You really think you can get away with this?' Terri, a red-faced power squadder, is standing opposite of Maya.

Maya, as some have made comment about, is not the same girl I remember. I believe them not because she's traded in her glasses for heavy, dark kohl lining her eyes, or because her dark, mismatched clothing that reminds me of my older brother's bedroom pinup of Courtney Love is swallowing up her tiny frame. When she tucks her hair back, I see her right ear that's almost completely covered in piercings. But, it's not all of that either.

Maya is almost a sister to her friend next to her (Gabby or Grace), who is equally studded and dressed to be deliberately different. Almost. She has left her hair blonde, a splash of colour that stands out from the shades of black and gray. I wonder if that might mean something, like, I don't know, maybe the old Maya hasn't completely transformed yet. Is the girl in the photobooth still in there?

Offhandedly, I keep wondering why I haven't seen the friends I know she was attached to the hip to before, like Tristan or Tori. Even Zig is mostly absent by her side, and he only seems to be with her when Gabby or Grace is giving him shit about something. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that this sometimes comforts me.

Again, none of this stuff would really strike me if I didn't see this _other _change for myself. She's just different, the way she carries herself, like she's waiting for someone to provoke her, like she is now. Her eyes are just waiting on Terri.

'Look,' Terri's voice is shrill and I'm sure it could be picked up by some poor dogs nearby, while she shakes her phone in front of Maya. 'What do you call this?'

'A cell phone in my face?' Maya quips, trying to hide a poorly disguised smile.

Dallas pushes me down into our seats with the team. 'This is gunna be good,' he snickers at the pair of girls, crossing his arms, reclining in his seat.

I'm not comfortable, I realize my palms are getting clammy.

'It's Tyler's. You know, Tyler, _my boyfriend_. And they're texts about _you_!' Terri's waterworks start now. 'You're disgusting, you know that? You think the guys invite you to drink and waste space at _our_ parties because they like you? You-y-you're s-such a…'

I actually feel my breath catch in my throat, but I can't look away when Maya's eyes flicker on me. There isn't hatred in them, like the dagger eyes she's thrown toward Terri, but worse-they're blank slates, empty. Before I shift uncomfortably in my jacket, before they tell me to join the team in wagering who's coming out alive in this one, she lets go of me, her eyes back on Terri.

'A Whore!' Maya bursts furiously, ignoring Gabby or Grace's pleas to walk away from the crowd that's stopped to watch the show. 'Don't worry, I know thanks to the _art _I saw while I was puking my eight am vodka fix in the stalls this morning.'

Terri is taken aback, as if she wasn't prepared to say it herself. Then, Zoe finally comes out of the squad's standing jumble to meet Terri, most likely telling her to leave it. I'm slow on the uptake on a lot of gossip at school, especially spread by the power squad, and in part to my not giving a shit most of the time. But, when I think I've just moved to break out of my uncomfortable spot of frozen heat, I feel Dallas' hand on my shoulder, as if to keep me in place. I'm not sure if it's because I'm trying to move toward the girls or if he thinks I will.

Then it's over. She's gone and the crowd disperses in one swift, fast-forward motion, and I'm glad it does because I need to stop feeling my stomach plummeting, so I won't feel like I'm sinking right through my seat.

'Teases,' Owen Milligan sighs heavily, seemingly deprived. 'Always all talk, man.'

I snap my head harshly in his direction, and, as though Dallas notices again, I'm stopped. Except, this time I'm finally reminded of why I take control to keep my mouth shut and my interests with the team before me. I'm going to ignore what's triggering me to go back to being a one-man-rage-machine, and just stay.

If I don't know about endurance by now, I know that I will absolutely regret it.


	2. Zoe

**Zoe**

I used to _hate_ Maya. I hated how she never tried to win anyone over with her easy smiles or her baby blue, Bambi eyes. Things never fell into my lap the way they did for her. I used to absolutely _love_ the idea of her falling from her pedestal, trading in her light, bouncy humour for, well, this…

But, something just irks me, gets right under my skin about Maya's outburst. And I'm not talking about the girl this time. I would've loved to see her get hers after everything that happened to Miles and his sudden disinterest in dating me after a hot minute, a hot minute that involved him sneaking behind my back to find her.

Yet, I'm taking a hand to Terri's shoulder, as if I'm supposed to be shocked by Maya's, 'Whore!'

I hear the girls whispering, buzzing behind me. If there was a worse time to realize it, it's now, but I just can't help seeing the lines drawn between us and them-the Power Squad and the Rubber kids, and everyone else. My dad tells me that cliques are different from what he remembers as a kid, he tells me that kids can be themselves more so now than ever and still be well-liked, that it's mainstream for kids to stand up for being different. He might have read a piece about LGBT school clubs in the Toronto Sun last week. I don't want to break it to my dad that I'm not as brave as he thinks I am, or that there is still plenty of terrible people out there.

After my assault and the big media circus, not to mention the school's reaction, I've held on to my climb back to the top, no matter what or who wanted to pull me back down along the way. I don't want to be on the other side of this line, lonely again.

I'm flying high right now, so I'm kind of freaking out over the fact that any fall from here is not going to be pretty or gentle. And, as if my eyes just take me there, I find Zig, staring at me. I'm not okay with this, I almost forget that I'm next to Terri, and I'm wondering if the girls have noticed us. _Us_? Urgh! No, not _us_, not now...

'Terri,' I hiss.'Let it go.'

She eventually does, but not before Maya stalks off, and I let go of a breath I didn't know I was holding. Somehow, with all the stupid amount of attention on us, crowding us, making me shove a few Hounds away, my eyes land on the new boy, Campbell. He's the only one sitting now, just watching, well, watching Maya. I wonder if his staring after her is a lot like my own, helpless and torn.

I do feel sorry about her. After lunch, every step I take away from her locker, with the intention to just abort my mission of sending her a message in an anonymous note, digs at me.

I'm such a nervous wreck that I don't see who I run into around the hallway's corner. 'Ooff,' a boy fumbles with his books.

'Campbell,' I try brightly, my note tucked into a fist behind me. 'It's Campbell, right?'

'Uh, yeah, but Cam is fine too,' he tells me, anxious-looking. He looks over my shoulder suspiciously. Is he going the opposite direction as me, was he on the same mission?

'Okay,' I reply lamely, and I know I can muster my training from acting camp better than this poor show. 'So, I hear you're back for hockey, just to get plucked up by the NHL before we all graduate.'

He takes in an even breath and then suddenly brightens. There's a practiced face if I've ever seen one before. And then I feel lighter because I'm not alone in this game of showing face. 'I'm counting on it,' he says.

I see his smile twitching for a split second, and it'd be cute if he were nervous and interested, and I definitely see what the girls see in his boy-next-door dimples. But, he _is_ acting, and not well enough for me to miss. His free hand even shakes when he pushes his fingers through his long bangs, tucking them behind his ears.

'You're going to make it farther than your whole team put together,' I say, my voice gaining more and more confidence. 'Trust me, I know talent when I see it.'

'Heh, thanks.' He nods, smiling appreciatively.

I want to say something more. I want to ask him about earlier, that it really sucks about Maya. Maybe I'd put it more eloquently. Maybe he thinks Maya deserves better too.

But then I hear a familiar chorus of cackles and giggles, _my _chorus of girls, who shouldn't be out of the practice that I scheduled...that I remember I'm late for now. Cam and I look around the corner, and Terri, who seems to be the leader of the group, is smiling wider than I've ever seen her smile at a pair of new shoes. The other girls all pat her back like it's something to be proud of. Then my eyes dart back and forth from the permanent marker in Terri's hand to the locker she's staring at.

_Oh no_.

Before I know it, my feet have taken me not so casually speed walking towards Maya's locker. I'm pretty sure I hear Cam trailing behind me.

**WHORE. **Written permanently on Maya's locker. That's all I see. And red. I see a lot of red when I finally meet Terri's smug face.

'What. Were. You. Thinking?' I try to say calmly, through my teeth, when I'm screaming this inside.

Terri slowly hides the marker, as if I hadn't seen it, her face falling with every second I wait for a response.

'Are you out of your mind?' I ask when she doesn't answer.

'I was thinking,' Terri finally gathers her courage, which I react with a cocked brow. 'That you'd support me through this rough time.'

'Pffft,' Cam releases from behind me.

Terri slowly backs away from me, and not because she's afraid like I assumed she should be, but because she's joining the squad. I make sure to note each squad member not present here, and it's disappointing that only some have decided that Terri isn't a decent girl enough to back up. 'You promised you'd be there for us, just like we've been there for you...' She says, meeting everyone's gaze before meeting mine again.

They all nod in approval. _Strength in numbers, bitch_, is what I assume Terri's hearing in her little head right now.

'I-' I cough, effectively hiding a stammer. I will come up on top of this. So, I extend my hand, waiting for her to empty hers.

Terri is hesitant, but I'm not. She finally gives me the marker.

'I did make that promise. But, that doesn't mean you get anything done without running it by me first.' The words come out hallow, but firm. I'm pleased because I see them all agree with me, even if Terri is the last to nod back. 'Now, get back to the gym before Simpson or anyone else finds out.'

They scurry away, but not before winking and 'hey'ing at Cam, as if they don't see his obvious anger. Maybe it isn't so obvious, because once they leave, I'm the only one that's not able to meet his eyes directly.

Even when I know we're both looking at Maya's locker, I can't seem to face him.

'I guess we owe her one, don't we?' I say, slicing through the thick silence.

When I finally turn to look up at him, I'm met with his muteness and his eyes at the bottom of Maya's locker, like he can't stand to see it. He doesn't look at me, and I don't follow or question him when he finally leaves.

* * *

By the end of the day, I still don't know what's wrong with me, especially since I share my last period class with Maya, a class in which I never really cared if she had been present or not. Maybe I'm sadistic and want to see the look of misery on her face, so I can feel that same bruising pinch in the middle of my chest that I felt in the cafeteria earlier today.

But, she's carrying on, as if she hadn't seen Terri's masterpiece on her locker. And I'm staring so intently at her, wondering what she's really thinking that I miss someone frantically waving for my attention.

Winston Chu is doing a very good imitation of a human windmill, he's waving both hands at the tall window pane that's next to my classroom's doorway.

'Uh, sir,' I implore Mr. Perino, and he's giving me a suspicious look. I make him lower to my level. 'I've got...women-specific problems,' I whisper to him. I don't have to see him fluster to know that he's waving me away, as I'm already making my way towards the door with my things.

'What's wrong, Win-' I start, until I sense someone standing nearby.

'Miss Rivas,' Mr. Martinello greets me, standing cross-armed as I turn to his voice behind me. 'I was just about to call you out of the classroom, but this saves you from the embarrassment.' He somehow looks disappointed by this.

'Sir?' I put my hands behind my back, just as Terri did hours ago, and especially because somehow I feel guilty with a pen in my hand.

Martinello is a new V.P. at Degrassi. But, he hasn't taken long to make his presence known, and his reputation for getting in our faces and digging up wrongs hasn't lost its streak, and the semester hasn't even finished yet.

I know I'm done for, except I'm not sure how Winston has anything to do with the graffiti on Maya's locker.

'I'd like to speak to both of you, in my office.' He says, his tall stature and his glasses that are so thick-lensed, making a blinding reflection, are intimidating.

'For, sir?' I ask innocently, resolute in standing my ground. _Innocent until proven guilty!_

'Not until we're in the office,' Martinello ignores me, stalking past both of us as he makes his way to the office, and he only turns to expectantly look our way.

Winston and I almost jump forwards, following him down the hallway.

'What is this about, Chewy?' I hiss.

His eyes widen as though he's just realized something with me here, 'You don't think...'

I sharply grab him by the arm. 'Chewy, you didn't...tell anyone, did you?'

My mind doesn't even want to think about the midterm exams a week ago, and the lengths I went to make sure my average didn't stray from the top of the honour roll list. I am not getting beaten by Becky Baker for first prize again. Not when she's making a speedy recovery from her fall off the human pyramid a short time ago. But, my mind goes there. _I cheated! _My hands go to my mouth as if I've confessed this aloud.

Martinello barks for us to follow us into his office this time.

I release the tight grip on Winston's wrist when he yelps. 'I didn't tell anyone, I swear,' he whispers to me.

I want to believe him, and he's trailing behind me, pleading me to believe him, but I'm already walking to the office, feeling my insides churning and swirling, making me sick. And I have more than a sneaking suspicion that Martinello doesn't fall for nor care for my hormonal cycles or other likely stories.

_Goodbye Power Squad, hello Loneliness, my old friend._


	3. Winston

**Winston**

It wasn't my idea to get a ride from my dad. But, he's apparently got something to tell me on my way to my first, full-fledged Saturday detention. I've never gotten detention in my life. I'm the guy that can actually list the teachers that have my reference letters lined up for when I graduate, and that's not until two years from now. But, that's not the cherry on the top of this fucking mess. How messed up is it that I'm finally alone with a girl on a weekend, only to have her hate the living guts out of me?

I only let her cheat off me because she promised an ample amount of time, about half a lunch period, to let me talk to her friends on the power squad. How was I supposed to know that rat-faced Derek would actually rat us out? Not that she cares. I see her getting dropped off by her own father, and she's already throwing threatening glares my way.

My dad parks with an abrupt lurch of the car, and he's pulling me away from one of Zoe's obscene gestures. 'What am I going to do with you?' He ruffles my hair, like I'm supposed to like it, with my glasses almost dangling off my ear.

I roll my eyes. My dad isn't a tiger mom or dad, or whatever. In fact, I'm pretty much a second generationer, which means my parents don't carry around a grudge against the 'white man' or constantly tell me to be grateful for everything I have because they didn't have anything growing up. No, they were both born and raised in Toronto; my grandparents were the immigrants. So, my dad isn't wailing on me for not getting a perfect score on my trig test, and he's not asking me to feel bad about my university prospects, who won't take kindly to my skimming the line of my permanent record. But, anything is better than this, this secret way of digging at me each time I slip up when he brings up the 'M' word.

'So, Miles in for the same thing?' He asks oh-so-casually.

'No,' I sigh heavily.

'So, why'd you do it?' He prods.

I only shrug, offering him little more than another irritated mumble, 'Iono.'

'Look, Chewy,' he says, and it's so fucking annoying that he uses that nickname. It's his stupid name too. It's _sooooooo_ fucking weird that he laughs whenever Miles calls me that. 'I'm supposed to lecture you about integrity and why you shouldn't cheat. Your mom would want that. But, come on. We've all done it at least once. But, getting caught...I guess this is a sign that you're just not cut out to be _that _guy.'

This is where I want to know. 'And what guy do you think I can't be, dad?' Say it, say it.

He flusters, waving his hands around way too much. 'Don't worry, don't worry. It's cool. Just don't do it again, okay?'

'Yeah. Whatever,' I tell him, and I unbuckle myself out of my seat because I _need _to get out quicker. 'I'm done at two.'

'Hey,' he calls after me, and I turn because he sounds kind of anxious.

'Yeah?'

'Just remember, after you get through with this, you can go back to being you,' he says, grinning sympathetically.

I'm sure he means well, as he reminds me each and every time he gives me one of his famous non-lectures. But, all I know is, when he says I should be me, or the best me I can be, somehow I always feel like I'm trying to hold myself in place without going totally ballistic.

I wave, making sure to look as okay as possible, 'See you at two.'

But, we're not alone. Once I enter the resource room, I see Maya Matlin and my new best enemy, Zoe, sitting at opposite ends. They're separated by at least ten rows of tables. They make the long parallel tables look like islands.

'Chewy,' Maya nods my way once I reach her, so I nod back.

'Hey,' I smile, and take a seat at her long table, but I've made sure to keep a three-chair distance because I see her hesitate when I almost take a seat next to her.

Maya's an alright girl in my book. When you get past her intimidating glare, which I still kind of find hard to buy since I remember her 'chicken cutlet' nickname and it's even funnier origin story, the dumb ass things people say about her, that Grace and the Rubber Kids have joined a cult, that they're the ones involved with all the random, dog sniffing drug searches, she's actually a decent person. She still says 'hello', and doesn't see Miles' name branded to my forehead, like most people do. Not all the time anyway, and not since they're five minute relationship ended months ago. Besides that, she's still friendly, or as friendly as she can be these days.

'So it's just the three of us, huh?' I say, trying to hide my smirk.

I scratch my last comment about this weekend sucking, I'm stuck at school with two of the hottest girls in school. Not bad.

'Hey,' someone says, scratching my last comment to oblivion when I look up.

Enter Cam Saunders. Enter my fantasies loudly going down the drain.

'Hey,' I'm the only one that greets him, my arms crossing.

He looks at our table, and I have to remember that this must be awkward for Maya since I heard he was and still is the only guy to ever dump her; I heard it was in less than ten syllables over text. I've always speculated until now, and I kind of see why she's got such an obvious reputation when it comes to the guys at our school. _She's the perfect girl_, they say. _No strings attached_, they assure their friends. What I don't get is if she's trying to prove that she's been having a rough time at school because he was the asshole to begin with, why does Cam look like a stray puppy that's getting his heart trampled on.

For a full minute, I'm starting to feel second-hand jitters from Cam and Maya just trying to avoid each other's eyes, while they stay very still. Cam is standing in our direction and Maya is looking anywhere else but at him. Like, I'm about to ask Zoe to give them some privacy.

'Sit down before Martinello comes in,' Zoe tells him, and he finally takes a seat at her table, and he is following my rule of keeping a three-chair distance since it seems like everyone's just buzzing with the 'don't bug me' vibes.

Zoe sits bolt upright at the sound of the door crashing open, only she does not stay very long as we all focus on another student.

Zig Novak. Actually, I would use the term 'student' loosely here. He's more of an occasional presence than the substitute teachers I've seen so far this semester.

'Let's get this party started!' He booms, and walks towards us, whipping his leather jacket over his shoulder, effectively knocking down a few books on a nearby counter top. He notices, and makes a show about showing mock concern before knocking a few other things down in the process.

'Get in your seat, Novak!' Martinello, or Lurch, as I like to affectionately call him, bellows at Zig.

Zig takes his sweet time, and I'm sure everyone winces when I see Martinello getting purple in the face.

'Hurry up!' He shouts, and isn't phased by Zig's pretend fumbling act into his seat directly behind Zoe.

Zoe, who is fuming, I can tell, is practically shaking from my long distance view.

'Sorry, sir,' Zig pouts dramatically, which our purple and, now, blue, V.P. ignores.

'You _fine _people are all serving a detention for a full school day. All of you know this, and,' Martinello waves Zoe's hand down. 'No, Miss Rivas, you cannot talk your way out of this. But, you will _not _be spending your time here aimlessly. You will all write an essay, no less than 1000 words, about why you will not be attempting to do whatever it is you've done to get to this sad point again, and who you intend to _be_ coming out of this day.'

'Sir?' I reluctantly raise my hand. 'Good idea, but-'

Zig coughs out something that sounds just like, _blowhard!_

'But,' I repeat, rolling my eyes. 'Shouldn't we be in the computer lab to type this paper?'

'Did I say type?' He asks me, exasperated.

'N-no?' I wonder if this is a trick question.

'You can't be serious,' Zig is apparently realizing something I just catch on to.

'Sir, people don't 'write' papers that way anymore,' Zoe argues, and I can't help but scoff at her straight spine and practiced tone, like he didn't just say that she couldn't act her way out of this one. 'We've all got laptops or even our smartphones, I'm sure we can all do this before this afternoon.'

Zig lets out a obnoxious snort, 'Ha!'

She whips around to glare at him, and he just smiles like he's won.

'That is the problem with your generation, isn't it?' And he looks gravely at all of us, pausing to shake his head.

We all shoot up a hand now, but he's already turned his back on us to grab something behind the librarian's reception desk. He brings out a dingy bin, and outstretches it to Zoe first.

'Phones, all of you. Now.'

We all drop our phones in his bin, one after the other, letting go of them like we've all just lost a limb.

'You're all doing this the old fashioned way. The right way,' he tells us, proudly. Lurch then picks up another smaller bin from the behind the desk, and empties its contents on Zoe's and Cam's table. It looks like about two dozen number two pencils and erasers dropping between them.

'If we finish before-' Zoe starts.

'Your last question for today, Miss Rivas,' he barks, and she flinches. 'And the answer is final. You're all serving your time. All of you.' He looks up at all of us then. 'Maybe it'll all give you some perspective about your actions.'


	4. Zig

**Zig**

How is everyone just sitting here, getting comfortable, like...like they're _actually _going to do this essay?

Everyone's in their seats, and I feel like I'm hovering over mine, losing it. I read the clock: 8:40 a.m.

_Fuuuuuuuuuu_...

And Jockstrap is talking to Zoe about something I can't hear because she's moved from her seat, farther away from mine. Then she laughs at something he says, and he's sitting there (three chairs apart too close) like he doesn't know that she's giving him her best smile. Winston's laughing from afar for some reason. I don't know, the kid is weird.

She leans in close next, asking Cam for something, maybe a sharpener.

'So,' I say, wedging my way into their conversation and the space between them, I take the seat closest to Zoe. 'Are you two, like, "just texting" or are you, like, "taking it slow before you label it"?'

Zoe's eyes narrow on me, and I don't have to turn around to know Cam's wearing his stupid, thick-browed frown.

'Fuck off, Novak,' she tells me, and all I see is her glossy, pink pout starting to betray her, curling slightly upwards. Her eyes widen when I lean in toward her.

'Are you going to make me, Princess?' I tell her, batting my eyes. I see her staying instead of leaning away from me.

'Leave her alone,' I hear Cam groan, but I don't pick up 'gentleman' or 'white knight', he doesn't even lift his eyes from his paper. But, he's talking to me in the same way he says everything else to me, like I'm this bug he's swatting away.

'We gotta finish this paper,' I hear Winston mumble to back him up.

'_We gotta finish this paper_.' I imitate his voice, high-pitched.

I'd normally shrug it off, because this is the expected reaction people give me, but then I hear Zoe getting up, agreeing quietly as she finds another seat and starting her paper again.

'Just leave _all _of us alone,' Cam tells me, eyes finally glaring up at me with this bored kind of hate. I am not worth his time. I know he's always felt this way about me.

'Big hero!' I can't help shouting, jostling in my seat as I jump up, and I easily leap to stand on the desk in front of me. 'This guy your hero?' I laugh to Zoe, and I make sure to lock eyes on each and everyone of them. 'Is he _saving _you from me?' I make sure to look at Cam then, who just stares blankly at me. Did he catch the dig? Am I some kind of sick idiot for even mentioning our unspoken connection? How can I make matters worse?

'C'mon, Maya,' I yell through my cupped hands. 'Tell'em how much of a decent guy he is.'

It's the first time I see Maya raise her head up from her crossed arms. I'm doubtful that she's been sleeping this whole time.

'Shut your hole, and get down before we all get in trouble,' Zoe adds, furious.

Then, I don't know what comes over Cam, because I've never seen the guy react to, well, anything this way. When he yells at me to come down, I have to laugh. He's waiting, hissing that Martinello hears me, and is coming. And I have to jump down to meet him, eye to eye, to believe he's finally getting in my face...again.

'Have the boys on the team told you how sexy you look when you do your mean face?' Zig laughs.

He's never stood at a terrifying height over me. In fact, I at least got a few inches on him, so I don't know how he always manages to make me feel like he's looking down on me.

I don't have to say anything to know he's ready to clock me in the face.

'You know what,' he tells me through bared teeth, and loud enough for everyone to hear.

'What's that, Jockstrap?' I quip.

'You're not worth it.' He says, eyes so blank that I suddenly question myself, and I feel like I missed him changing this much after a single blink. 'You know, if you really wanted to do us all a favour, you'd leave us right now. Really,' he pauses, and I eye his clenching fists at his sides. 'If you walked out of here right now, out of this school, leave us all alone _for good_, we wouldn't even know the difference...you don't even matter.'

Not only are my ears pumping with what I'm pretty sure feels like boiling blood, but they are also filled with the heavy ringing of my own words, twisted and darker than my memory of them, coming out of his mouth.

I won't lie to myself-I agree with him. I am nothing, I am worthless, and I hate that I see a flood of memories of my mom just now.

But, why the _hell_ would I admit that to him, to anyone? I swallow once, and I make myself just...do something, anything else.

'What should I do?' I make a face, and it helps me throw him off. 'Should I join the hockey team? I would love to feel a part of something, somehow.'

Winston makes a loud snort.

'What?' I flick my pencil at the dork's desk, which he hilariously tries to catch, but ends up slapping his glasses off.

It's like something punctures the huge bubble Cam thinks we've been surrounded by, because he finally sees the others watching us. Something in him changes in another blink of an eye. And he's sitting down, muttering about how much of a _fucking idiot_ I am.

'Should I join the Mathletes?' I crowd Winston's desk now, and he almost looks as angry as Cam did.

'I don't belong to that club,' Winston deadpans. 'We don't even _have_ thatclub.'

'You'd know that if you didn't spend half of your time pretending like you even go to this school. I mean, you haven't gotten expelled yet, right?' Zoe asks me, twisting in her seat to look at me.

I'd give anything for her to give me another wicked look. She's so Goddamn hot when she's mean.

'I belong to the Comic Book club.' Winston tells us all, and I'm sure he's trying his best to sell how brave and casual he is for saying it out loud.

'That's a club?' Zoe asks, smirking.

'What, that doesn't count?' I sit next to Winston, resting my head in my propped up hand, with a dramatic tilt of my ear for her opinion.

'I mean, it's not a sport or an academic...'

Winston ignores her. 'There's about ten of us. We discuss the novels. We have all kinds of conventions, where we meet with other school clubs. When we get together on the weekends, we, uh, someone hosts a party, and we talk about-'

'So, you guys get smashed and then get to drool over a bunch of huge, alien tits that those horny comic book dudes love to draw. It's sounds like _my _kind of club.' I clamp a hand around Winston's arm. 'Where do I sign up?'

'It's not that kind of party, they don't get high.' Zoe explains tiredly.

'My cousin, Janine, uh, she once got really high at one of my parents' God awful house parties with all my _dorky _relatives. I had to cover for her, so I, uh, put her in my room. When I came back after everyone left, I catch her just in time trying to eat through my mattress. She was, like, lost, like she didn't know how she ended up at my house in the first place...' Winston drifts off, like he's waiting for approval from us.

And all I keep thinking is what _his_ _dorky _relatives are like.

'Ha!' Zoe laughs at me. 'Sounds like your kinda crowd.'

'What's wrong with that?' Comes a soft but sure drawl.

I swear, everyone's head snaps toward Maya with such a force that I'm sure we've all got whiplash. I never knew there'd be a day when Maya would stand up for me without Grace's influence. Man, I used to wait for days for any sign at all that she still cared for me, not even in the way _I_ used to care for her, want her. I just wanted to know that she knew there _was_ something there, even if it didn't mean much to her. But, whenever I see her now, when I come close enough to really look at her, I only see the shitty decisions I've made.

'Not enough backstabbing bitches painting your nails to make it a normal kinda crowd?' Maya just watches Zoe's jaw drop.

'These are the detentions I _live _for.' I scissor kick my legs out of my seat.

'Girl fight! Girl fight! Girl fight!' Winston starts chanting, attempting to high five me. But, I just laugh, shaking my head and pushing a hand over his face.

'Would you shut up,' Cam tries again. 'I am not missing another practice, so I can spend another weekend-'

'Let's get this straight,' I say, leaping up from my seat. I bound to the librarian's counter in one jump to climb on top of it. 'Which one of us would you like to shut up the most. Oh, but first, I have to thank you all for coming out to the show.'

Maya just rolls her eyes when she sees me holding my air mic, because she's seen this act before. The Rubber Room has always been my choice stage for these kind of shows, but today I feel like I actually do have everyone's attention. Just not Maya's, since her head is down in her arms again, definitely not faking her nap this time.

'Listen up,' I point at Cam sternly, then I break, pretending to nervously push up glasses over the bridge of my nose. 'Mr. Martinello, sir, this paper was such a good idea. Daddy Chu's wet dream is for me to get the grade above the grade, _above_ the grade! And I really don't wanna miss our super duper comic book shopping date next weekend. I promise I'll do better next time!'

Winston predictably stews in his seat while everyone else glares up at me, unamused.

Then, I have to flip my pretend, long locks over my shoulder.

'I don't even know what I'm doing here with all of _these_ people. I really can't believe it. I mean, it's bad enough that I have to sit here and define who I am in an essay. Seriously, wow, everyone knows who I am. I'm Queen Bee, and I don't have to apologize for being me.'

I see Zoe's wicked smile again, and it eggs me on, my heart racing.

'And I really don't have to answer to anyone, anyone who thinks they have an in with me, anyone who thinks I'm letting them see me best when I'm alone, and especially if they'll stay my obedient, little dirty secr-'

Zoe doesn't have a chance to turn on me, still reeling from the shock, when the library doors crash open.

'GET IN YOUR SEAT, AND SHUT YOUR MOUTH!' Martinello's full voice bellows.

I sit stalk straight once I'm in my seat, hands tightly entwined, but I'm cheesing. I know I'll get chewed out for this one, so I might as well keep the show going. Martinello is all talk anyways.

'You think you're fooling anyone, Novak?' Martinello towers over me, as if I'm supposed to squeak. 'That door is wide open, and my office is right out that door. If I hear anyone,' he addresses us all now, 'I mean, not just this idiot moving out of his seat, I'll get you coming here next week.'

He spins on his heel to make an exit when I just can't help myself.

'Suck it.'

'What did you say?'

'I said, _suck_ it.' I say louder. 'Sir.'

'Congratulations, Novak.' He actually applauds me, clapping slowly. 'You've just won another Saturday detention.'

'Oh man, thank you, sir.'

'And there's another one.'

I pretend to check an air phone from my pocket, pretending to scroll through my screen. 'Looks like I'm free for the foreseeable future, sir. Any other dates you had in mind?'

'The week after that, too. Want another?'

'Yes!'

'One more. Are you through? I can keep going.'

'Please, I'm just crying out for attention!' I raise my hands in prayer.

'Another.'

In the corner of my eye, I see Zoe mouthing out a warning, trying to stop me. I meet her eyes and see that she's not joking, maybe she's even concerned.

'How many is that now, Novak? Can you keep up?'

'That's five, sir,' Winston helps.

'Shut it, pipsqueak,' Martinello snaps at him, then turns back to me. 'Instead of selling dope on the streets, you'll be spending quality time with me.'

'I never thought you felt that way about me, sir!' I want to come off as smooth, but I raise my voice instead.

'You're really not fooling anyone,' Martinello points a finger at me, then points to the rest. 'You think you're little show has them wrapped around your finger? You got no one, son. No one that cares. So, the more time you spend worrying about the fine line you're walking between juvie and this school that apparently thinks you're worth this much trouble, the less time I have to see you walking around for what I expect will be your multiple attempts at graduation.'

'And the next time I have to come in here,' he continues, glowering down at all of us with a disgusted, exasperated look. 'I will not waste anytime in making sure Mr. Novak is not lonely here for the next two months.'

He storms off, disappearing into his office and I let it out.

'_**FUCK**_!'

My heart is hammering in my ribcage, my lungs feel emptied, and I feel like my shaking won't stop.

* * *

'What are you doing?' Winston is the first to notice me out of my seat again.

'Finding something to do in this shit hole that's worth my time,' I say, popping my head up momentarily before busying myself with the locked drawer from the librarian's desk. I hear a satisfying click before I wrench the drawer open. 'B-ee-you-tiful!'

I bring my booty of wires and a laptop to the back of the room, and I stir Maya awake again. 'Are you out your mind?' She tells me, which sort of throws me because she usually doesn't give a crap about anything I do. Not nowadays, at least.

Her concern leaves me with an inexplicable prickly feeling all over my skin, and, before I can stop myself, I glance over Cam's way. He's watching me too.

'Nevermind,' I mutter, and I get back to the task at hand, hooking up wires and booting up the laptop to a large presentation screen behind Maya. Her closeness and her worrying about me is only slowing me some. But, it's only because I know Cam is finally showing more emotions than the goons he's been trying to imitate on his team this whole time. I'm making sure to glance his way every so often.

Then there's this gnawing guilt that bugs me when he's being more than obvious when it comes to Maya. Even being mentioned by association with her, in a sentence with commas, in fragments broken up by periods, gets me under his radar. I don't know what he's doing with this physical space I'm sharing with her. I'm starting to realize that this kind of guilt doesn't go away when you try to buy your way out of it by blazing up behind bleachers. I'm already scraping change for bus money because of him.

'Voila!' I exclaim proudly.

'Zig,' Zoe's up next, and she pleas out loud this time.

I do see her, but she's catches herself, like she's just realized that everyone else heard her too. Figures.

'Who wants to watch the 'Tube?' I announce, grinning widely, like I wasn't screaming at the top of my lungs minutes ago.

I don't wait for the rest to answer because I know they're sitting in their seats, watching the open door, waiting for Martinello to hand out new pink slips with new charges.

'Aha!' I exclaim, my thumb clicks the mousepad to start the video on the big screen before us.

The projector whirs to life, and the blue screen scrambles to the YouTube video I've started to play, the volume mute to everyone's relief.

'Ha!' Winston is the first to crack. 'I love this one.'

He's cracking up and I'm cracking up, we're both cackling at the reel of some kid's fails and pranks compilation, but everyone else stays stalk still, like Martinello is still here.

'_Caaaaamon_.' I tease Zoe, whose lips are already trembling.

'You're such an idiot,' Zoe is trying to say, but laughs through her words, and clamps her mouth shut before her volume carries.

'You're the one laughing,' I accuse her, then I turn to hear Cam laughing quietly too.

'Oh shit, he's got a funny bone after all.' I joke, and he keeps going without minding me. I'll take any distraction for him where I can get it.

'Go to that one!' Maya joins in now, pointing to a video that's got a thumbnail that looks like a panda trying to get up, titled 'Panda Dances to Kanye'.

If I had known that silent YouTube marathons were a thing, a thing that gave us an out from all the tension we had building between us, I would've started as soon as I walked in. And each new video of a prank gone wrong to epic stunts takes us farther away from finishing our paper or reminding us we're here.

Winston bumps shoulders with me as our collective laughs start to rise above whispered snickering. And he's nudging me to play the 'Drunk Girl Twerks Off Roof' video. The girls give their nervous laughs, while we all try to keep from falling off our chairs.

Then I hit another link, curious, while everyone is distracted. 'This looks like a party I went to.'

That's when I hear a loud screech, someone's chair skitters to the side, which I ignore because I'm squinting to make sure what I'm seeing is true.

'Turn it off,' I hear Zoe tells me, panicked.

'Whats the big deal?' I reply, eyes still not peeling from the screen. 'It's just some wasted girl, dancing on-'

'And that's supposed to be something we'd want to watch?' Zoe asks, looking unimpressed.

'Maya?' Winston says as if he hadn't meant to say it out loud. He's staring up at the screen with the same doubtful stare.

But, the camera focuses on Maya, and she's dancing on someone's kitchen table in a top too small and a skirt too short, while the hockey team howls below her. Her one hand waves around a sloshing drink, and her free hand seductively tangles in her hair. She's blowing woozy kisses to the camera guy. Predictably, the goons crowd closer, whistling and cat calling her louder, but I'm not reacting the same way as I watch her now. I feel like I'm watching a horrible car wreck, and I'm frozen in curiousity. Then the camera pans in tightly to see that her eyes aren't just glassy from the alcohol, but red and shining wet from tears.

'Zig, stop it,' the live Maya finally grabs my attention.

But, I turn to Cam rushing toward me first. He's got that same intense, blankness about him when he pushes me out of the way, ripping the laptop's wire free, cutting off the feed to the screen.

Before I get to my feet, Cam is pulling me up by the collar.

'I didn't know,' I struggle to spit out, pushing off him. But, he keeps coming, backing me up into a bookshelf, paperbacks and textbooks tumbling at our feet.

'Fuck off, man!' I push him again, but he's hearing none of it. 'Leave some of this fight for later. How are you gunna get it up for the boys in the locker room now?'

'They took that down a really long time ago when they found out the team did it, it's just a bunch of loser niners who keep trying to bring it back up,' Winston's trying to vouch for me.

'_STOP_!' Maya tries to pull us apart, and almost tears Cam's shirt as she drags him off of me. When I see that her anger is placed completely on him, I'm relieved, but it's also making me feel like an awkward wall between them.

Maya and Cam are staring each other down, panting, while I try to gather myself up, catching my own breath. The others are holding it all in because I think they hear something moving outside the library's doors.

Were we lucky enough to miss Martinello because of a washroom break? Did he go to the end of the hall for a snack from the machine? Is he somewhere else completely, jerking off? We clearly dodged a bullet if he's missing out on this mess.

'You can stop acting now.' Maya pulls our attention back to Cam, her voice trembling, but steady. 'Stop pretending like you're better than us, that you're so different from the Terri Pattersons or the Luke Bakers of this school, or even the Zigmund Novaks...'

Cam doesn't say a word, which I really think is the smartest thing he's done all morning. Not that I'd wish Maya's infamous wrath on anyone.

'You left! You made me think that I mattered...like _they_ all mean to, right?' She gives a hollow laugh, and I'm sure we all wish ourselves invisible right now, but none of us dare to move. 'And you left me, with whatever you told them, letting everyone think up every name there is for a girl like _me_. So, you come back, a little less nervous, and a little more like you belong with them, laughing with them about me...or letting them laugh.' She swallows a lump in her throat before continuing. 'I know what you all think. We're either the Virgin, the Bitch, or the Slut. But, if they tell me I'm anything, I'll _always_ choose how to wear it, and no one can put me down for it.'

Zoe suddenly rises from her chair, maybe she wants to add something, maybe back her up since we're all getting so cozy in here. But, she keeps her quiet distance instead.

'Just keep sitting pretty at your table at lunch, thinking we all love you. But, don't you dare do me any favours.' She shakes her head. 'You know, at least Zig doesn't lie about who he is, even if he is a pigheaded asshole.' She stays a moment in silence, waiting for him to defend himself or daring him to. But, he looks away, shameful, before she moves.

'Hey,' I say resentfully, which I realize is delayed when she finally finds her seat again.

Cam, with fists clenching until I see white knuckles, is standing, still examining the spot she had just left.

Zoe is still quiet too, almost twitching while she sits back down in her corner, and I only have to wonder why for a gut-sinking moment. I've made a huge, mind-bogglingly stupid mistake. A pigheaded asshole kind of mistake that I'm not sure I can face Zoe about now. Maya's video is a scary twin to Zoe's in a way, and I didn't stop it soon enough for both girls.

Soon, the laptop is discarded somewhere and the screen is blank again, and just in time for Martinello to come back with a look of genuine surprise. He must think he's finally broken us down when he sees us sitting quietly in our seats, diligently looking over our papers, even if we're all drawing a blank to write more.

'Lunch time, friends!' He says with a smug grin. 'Novak. Saunders. Help me with the water bottles. I don't want your parents thinking that I'm completely depriving you.'

* * *

I try to tell Cam that Maya is ready to hear the truth, that it'd suck for her to always be kept in the dark about what happened that night in the greenhouse.

But, he busies himself with unloading the water bottles from the caf's fridge instead. I don't want to push my luck by lecturing him, because I've already busted down the door on that anger of his again. Still, I feel the obligation to at least let him know about something I've been keeping from him all this time. I've only tried to tell him about a million times, almost every day by the bleachers, but I always lose my nerve. That, and I never wanted my head kicked in.

'Maya would kill me for talking about her to you...' I blurt out. But, apparently I'm a glutton for an ass kicking.

Maybe this will drive the message home through his thick skull. And I see his hand hover a little too long over the last set of water bottles before he starts moving again.

I continue, 'You're not doing her any favours by keeping your secrets. I tried doing that when I was dealing, and when I got kicked out of my house, she found out. She wouldn't leave me alone until I got help.' I leave out the part where I mistook her concern as a come on, because I realize I can actually get away with this confession without him wailing on me again. 'She's loyal...and stronger than you think.'

He clenches his jaw, maybe deciding what to do with what I've said. I don't know if he believes me, because he's already started moving his carton of bottles without me, but I feel better knowing his frown looks a lot less menacing when he happens to look at me on our way back.


End file.
